Okay, okay. Jaune could admit that he wasn't exactly the most observant guy on the planet. Hell, he knew at least… uh… carry the two… thirteen people! Thirteen people that would go so far as to call him 'oblivious'. Which was, uh. Yeah. Hurtful, but true.

As far as their alien visitor was concerned, he knew, logically, that he should have been paying his utmost attention to it. Its movements, its speech patterns, the way its hands drifted behind as it floated about, the way its lock of a face hovered exactly in the middle between its 'hair' and its 'neck'. And the way it spoke, the things it said. Stuff that ought to be recorded for future generations and stuff, for this was first contact! Like something right out of a TV show. But, well. That was the crux of the issue, wasn't it?

He hadn't.

There were so many things he should have done that he didn't do. It was the story of his life at this point. His subtitle: "Left Things Undone That Probably Should Have Been Done." And yet, here he was. Walking across Sanus, to make up for it. And too caught up in his mistakes to realize he was making the same ones all over again.

In this case… at least the consequences were lesser, yeah? Ignoring their alien visitor for three days was surely of a lesser magnitude than ignoring your partner for…

Man. He didn't want to do the math on that. Still, things weren't irreversibly screwed, yeah? Three days wasn't that long of a time to mostly ignore someone. Especially someone as inapproachable as the ink-stained alien(?) who was...

They were now asking him a question? Shoot. He'd gotten lost in his own head again, lost in the past. When would he learn?

Jaune put down Crocea Mors, walked over to his Scroll, and paused the video playback, only mostly not wincing. 70% not wincing. An improvement since the last time he'd done this, his last stint on watch four days ago. That time, he'd cried. Worst of all, he was pretty sure Ruby had woken up and heard him. He hadn't actually seen her, and when he'd snooped back to the campsite after a night of training, she'd seemed fast asleep. But there was no mistaking the slowly dissipating rose petals that marked her Semblance.

She hadn't said anything, then or later. Out of pity, he could only assume. He could appreciate the thought. Ruby may have been willing to laugh at his beloved Pumpkin Pete's hoodie (which he still wasn't planning on taking off, thank you very much! It was a collector's item! It held sentimental value!), but not his deeply held personal traumas.

Not that he'd really expected she would or anything, Ruby Rose was too nice and too good of a friend for that, not to mention how Nora and/or Ren would probably break her legs for it since they'd lost just as much as him, but... uhhhh let's just move on, how about. It was why he was further away this time, and had dragged their heavy-handed visitor over with him, keeping a useless eye on him. He couldn't bear to see Ruby's naked pity.

Still, this training. It maybe wasn't the most effective, working off these old videos Pyrrha had made. He'd moved past these fundamentals a long time ago, or so he hoped. But he knew just how weak he was, compared to his friends. He had to do something.

Not here or now, though. Given he was mostly conscious of just how useless his actions were at the moment… he should probably work on a more immediate issue. One he actually had the power to change. He had an alien to converse with.

"Ah, sorry. Didn't hear you," Jaune said, putting down Crocea Mors and scratching at the back of his head. "Care to repeat yourself?"

"That girl. Who is she?"

Jaune took a deep breath. That… was a question he should have expected. He'd been the one to drag them over here, in full view of Pyrrha's smiling image. He… should have been prepared to field this.

And he was… well, kind of. He always was, to some extent, thinking about her. Her memory was never far away. He might not be able to communicate clearly, but…

"That's Pyrrha. My teammate. Partner. They used to call her the Invincible Girl." His voice seemed so far away, as he spoke. Halfway detached. It didn't crack, which was a small miracle in and of itself. But it was a close thing.

And even though he hadn't yet outright stated it, Jaune's lock-faced conversation partner picked up what was left unsaid nonetheless.

"How did she die?" they bluntly asked.

Jaune turned away, unable to hold his composure any longer. Tears wet the corner of his eyes, and his grip on reality, the present, shook. If the levitating loom noticed, they didn't point it out. A small fact Jaune was somewhat grateful for. If he'd had to deal with yet more pity, he thought he might snap.

He choked out the word like a curse,"Cinder. She was too powerful. We both saw it. The powers she had. She killed Ozpin. There was… nothing we could have done. Nothing she could have done."

Nothing I could have done.

"If this 'Cinder' was so strong, then how did you survive?"

He asked himself that same question, from time to time. Why had he been the one to survive? Of the pair, Pyrrha had always been the better one. The stronger one, the cleverer one, more self-conscious, more kind… Why hadn't it been her?

If there was a god, gods, whatever, then surely they had to have a truly cruel sense of humor. He was laughing at the cosmic joke known as Jaune Arc.

"I wanted to run," Jaune finally said. "We should have… But Pyrrha wouldn't go. She knew it was useless. Maybe she thought she was the strongest of us. But she must've known…No."

That, Jaune thought, was the worst part of all of this. In a very real sense, there was… absolutely nothing that could have changed. Her fate had been sealed the moment Pyrrha had decided to enter Beacon's basement. Maybe even before then, back before Ozpin had No matter how many times he ran back the scenario in his head, he could not find any room for coincidence, for luck, or for a break of character.

Cinder was ruthless.

Pyrrha was selfless.

Jaune was useless.

There could be no other outcome.

"She was brave," Jaune instead concluded. "Too brave."

"It sounds like you were lucky to know her," the ink-stained listener tip-tapped out. "Her passing…"

They hesitated. And then fell silent, as if they'd been about to say something, but decided better of it.

"Yeah," he finally replied. "She was amazing. Strong, kind, beautiful… she was perfect. Any guy would be lucky to…"

He was glad that he was turned away, for tears were starting to run down familiar grooves in his face. A bitter chuckle escaped his chest, carrying his regrets and shame.

"I never noticed. I had all the time in the world to do something about it. I never did.

"And then she was gone."

She died alone.

He couldn't even be there as she died.

He allowed himself another moment, standing stock-still and weeping into his sleeve. He absorbed himself in his grief and self-pity, allowing memories to well up from the shallow depths of his consciousness. They were the best days of his life. Movie night. Training in the dead of night. Rambunctious food fights. Countless moments half-forgotten, which he couldn't help but struggle to hold onto. If Pyrrha had still been around to share them, they would undoubtedly bring a smile to his face.

And then he took a deep breath. Several. His eyes were still red and puffy, but he lifted Crocea Mors from where it lay, returned his still-blurry gaze to Pyrrha's face on his Scroll screen.

"What are you doing?"

"Training. When we face Cinder again… I need to be ready."

As long as he lived, he'd have more time for self-flagellation. And while, in a sense, that probably meant he should probably self-flagellate while he still had the chance… he couldn't waste all of his time like that.

For all that they probably shouldn't, his friends were counting on him. He couldn't let them down. Jaune knew he didn't have a lot of strengths. But he needed to play to them nonetheless. He needed to get stronger in general.

"You still plan on fighting her?" If Jaune wasn't imagining it, there was a note of incredulity in the chain-armed alien's voice.

Jaune shrugged, looking into its lack of face, meeting its lack of gaze.

"Yep."

Their feet didn't touch the ground. But they levitated backwards a pace, giving the impression that they were taking a step backward.

"You are by far the weakest of your teammates. And in your own words, they too, pale in comparison with your dead partner. The woman you chase was stronger than her as well. And yet you still plan on pushing onward."

Harsh, but true.

Ruby may have held enough respect for him not to mock him to his face. But he knew, deep in his heart, deep in hers, that she still thought of him as weak. That he wouldn't be able to keep up, in the fights ahead. Nora was a little more open about it, Ren a little more closed off, but his teammates knew the same thing.

Jaune Arc was a burden. He'd cheated his way into Beacon, and only serendipity and stupidly good luck had led him to this point. He couldn't be called strong, or quick, or clever. At best, he was resourceful, maybe even funny. But as far as qualities that made a Huntsman... he didn't have 'em. It made him wonder what his younger self had been thinking, what glory he thought he'd be claiming by attending a Huntsman Academy without doing anything to prepare for it.

Idiot.

Yeah. The guy with an ink-stained washcloth for hair hadn't spoken a single false word. And logically, that meant they thought that Jaune should just, give up. Y'know. Run away some more. That if he kept going, he'd just be throwing his useless butt into the frying pan. They were probably right, too.

Two things, though. First off… honestly? That'd be fine by him. He'd take a bullet, a blade, a laser beam, a fireball to the face if it to keep his friends safe. He'd build his own pyre and burn in the most painful way imaginable if it meant Ruby, Nora, or Ren wouldn't have to. If he'd been able to do it for Pyrrha… he'd have done it in a heartbeat.

Second and more importantly, though…

"Who else is going to?"

Something about that must've struck a chord to their inkblotted visitor. A mere moment later, as ink dripping almost slowed to a halt, they abruptly about-faced, nearly smacking Jaune with one of their massive hands as they spun around. He nearly said something, considered yelling out as to what they were doing.

He hesitated a bit too long. And instead simply watched as they floated at a decent clip deeper into the surrounding forest without making a sound. Their massive hands drifted past the trees, without touching even a leaf.

Jaune considered going after them. Asking what they were doing. Commanding them to stop.

But ultimately, for all that aliens and otherworlds were as crazy as something from a television show, a book, or a fantasy, he didn't have time to dwell on those anymore. He knew what he had to do.

He had to become better. A better fighter, a better person… Odds of him succeeding? Not high. But all he could do was hope. Hope and try.

Jaune pressed play on his Scroll's video. Took a ready stance once again.

"Alright, Jaune, just like we practiced. Follow these instructions. Shield up."

This endeavor has been, in and of its entirety, a complete waste of time. Talking to these children that don't know any better. These half-cocked stories of failures and sufferings… they can't compare to his own. This world must simply be brighter than the City, for these supposed Hunters to somehow hold such an optimistic outlook. They don't apply to him.

(People were cruel. Always cruel.)

Children that acted on emotion and impulse. It was all that they were. They talked a big game, but would fall short in the end, driven to their knees by reality and those that simply were more powerful than them. They'd encounter their own Will of the City, their own Prescripts, their own Indexes and Messengers and Proxies. Realize the futility of struggling against them, and accept their fate just like he had.

(All he could do was drift with the flow.)

Even if they didn't bend their backs, what would be the point? They'd simply perish, confronted by the real world. Die like every other human in history. What were they even fighting for? Justice? Revenge? Simply part of the Will of the City, nonetheless. And that was overwhelming. They'd break upon the shore, unable to reach inland. Fall silent, far from home and farther from succor.

(He couldn't go home. Following through was impossible.)

It was foolish… so foolish. To even consider change, in a static world, with a shattered mind. The strength to try… to try and be better. A sad joke that he doesn't quite possess. He knows where his limits are. They have not changed. If he could simply… push past them, he wouldn't be where he is now.

(All hope was gone. There was nothing he could do.)

This was… simply an act in four parts. An act that would not go down in history. Nor taken note of by literature. Unremarked upon by science. No art to it at all. A pointless detour, undertaken by a man once known as Yan Vismok.

A/N: "No one was saved. All the lonely people."

Would it be uncharitable of me to call Jaune a more competent Philip?

…Yes. It would be. More accurate: Jaune is a Philip given time to grow, room to improve, and people to lean on that don't all go off and die on him, Pyrrha notwithstanding. Throw Philip into Jaune's shoes, and he might actually pull himself together, secure his E.G.O., and become a hero worth looking up to. And if Jaune ended up in the 8 O' Clock Circus… I wouldn't be surprised if he literally Distorted into another iteration of the Crying Children.

Anyhow.

Jaune's Page

HP: 82 (57)
SR: 82 (57)

Speed: Speed Dice Slot +1. (Cannot Overlap)

Aura: Damage resistances remain "Immune" until Staggered, at which point they return to normal for the remainder of the reception. Stagger Resist is not recovered if an Act ends.

Crocea Mors: Block Dice +1 Power.

Deck:

(4) Vanguard

On Use: Forces target to attack this character next Scene.
8-16 Block
4-9 Block
2-7 Slash

(2) Hasty Defense
On Use: Draw 1 page.
3-8 Counter Block
3-7 Counter Block

(1) Natural Leader
Combat Start: Give 1 Strength to a random ally
5-8 Block
2-6 Blunt

(3) Arkos
Combat Start: If an ally is playing a page with the same name, all Defensive dice on this page gain +2 Power.
5-9 Block
8-15 Block (On Clash Win: Draw 1 page)
3-8 Slash

(1) Pomegrenade
Combat Start: If an ally is playing a page with the same name, all Defensive dice on this page gain +2 power; Restore 2 Light at the end of the Scene.
4-6 Block
4-7 Blunt

Final chapter incoming shortly. And from there…

Well. I'm about to have a fun time, how about that.